


When Hermione Knew

by HarmonyLover



Series: Confessions of the Heart [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the inaugural ball for newly-appointed Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hermione starts to understand her own heart and her feelings for a particular dark-haired wizard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Hermione Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, et al. I write these stories purely for entertainment purposes; no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s Note: This is a prequel to “Confessions of the Heart,” telling the story of Kingsley’s inaugural ball and quite a lot besides. I wrote "Confessions" first, but this comes first chronologically, so I thought it made sense to post them in order. I have three other stories in various stages of completion that will eventually be part of this series, along with the two that are already here. While this doesn’t end with an absolute happy ending (since “Confessions” therefore wouldn’t exist), there is hope, even if Hermione doesn’t think so. Happy Harmony reading!
> 
> My deepest thanks to Autumnia, for her endless patience in dealing with my comma-itis and tendency toward wordiness.

**When Hermione Knew**

 

Hermione entered the ballroom and looked about with a pleased smile. The newly reconvened and reorganized Ministry had really outdone itself for Kingsley’s inaugural ball. The imposing Auror had been sworn in as Minister of Magic just that afternoon, after two years of exhausting investigative work into the Ministry and practically every wizarding family in Britain. Numerous trusted witches and wizards – including the Weasleys, the Hogwarts faculty, and Augusta Longbottom – had been working endlessly to find and prosecute anyone who had been involved in corruption, war crimes, or following Voldemort in any way. The list was long and arduous, for there were plenty of people in seats of power who had profited from the chaos Voldemort created, even if they were not directly involved with him. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had also played a significant part in the work, both during and after their Auror training. As the three of them knew more than anyone else about where and how Voldemort’s remaining followers were likely to scatter, they had been consulted frequently. Once they had graduated from the Auror Academy, they had often been specifically assigned to rounding up remaining Death Eaters. Although some of Voldemort’s minions were still at large, the numbers were shrinking every day.

The ballroom looked beautiful, with ornate candelabras lining the walls and more candles glittering in crystal chandeliers on the ceiling. The feast lining one wall of the ballroom could have rivaled the food on a house table at Hogwarts, and a warm summer breeze drifted in through open French doors festooned with garlands of flowers. It was amazing to think that such a stunning room existed inside the generally imposing and utilitarian Ministry of Magic. Hermione had never seen it before, but then again, there had not been much need to use it in the last five years. Since their fifth year at Hogwarts, the Ministry had been so preoccupied – first with denying and hushing rumors of Voldemort’s return, and then with trying to contain the disorder and betrayal within its own ranks – that festive occasions of state had been nonexistent.

Thankfully, all of that was over now. Voldemort had fallen two years before due to Harry’s selflessness and bravery, and the three friends were now fully-fledged Aurors. In fact, Harry and Ron had just finished an exhausting investigation into the Carrows, which was followed by a very public and demanding trial. Thanks to all of their work and the overwhelming testimony of Hogwarts students and alumni, the Carrows had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Hermione, in the meantime, had made it her personal mission to collect every scrap of incriminating evidence she could find on one Delores Jane Umbridge. While the odious woman had not yet been brought to trial, Hermione had sworn to herself that Umbridge would never be able to hurt anyone again, least of all Harry. She had done her work very, very well, and she was sure that a fitting punishment would be found for the former High Inquisitor.

Hermione inconspicuously accepted a glass of champagne from a server as she thought about the progression of events immediately following the Final Battle. The first few months after the war had been more than chaotic, but one thing she, Harry, and Ron had absolutely agreed upon was that they wanted to be Aurors. There was no better way to finish the work they had started over the previous seven years than to get the professional training they had so sorely been lacking during their Horcrux hunt. While the Ministry’s temporary governing council would have gladly waived the normal training requirements for the famous Trio, they had all flatly refused any special consideration. If they were to be Aurors, they wanted to complete the year-long training as any normal Hogwarts graduate would.

Furthermore, Hermione had worked out a plan with Headmistress McGonagall to complete the work and the N. E. W. T. S. from their aborted seventh year. Auror training was five days a week, but Hermione wanted to spent her evenings and weekends at Hogwarts making up the missed material.

While McGonagall spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince Hermione to simply return to Hogwarts, in the end even she could see the difficulties of such a plan. Hermione had been through too much to be a full-time student again. She would chafe under the regimented system at the school after being forced to continually improvise and make her own decisions as a matter of survival. In addition, while she would surely garner a tremendous amount of respect from the other students, her fame (even more pronounced since the end of the war) would follow her and perhaps increase her isolation. If having Harry Potter as a student had taught Minerva anything, it was that students could be cruel beyond comprehension to those they perceived as different. That was something she intended to change, but implementing change took time, and Minerva did not want Hermione to suffer. Finally, it seemed impossible to ask Hermione to be away from her two best friends, whom she had depended on, protected, loved, and fought beside for seven years. The rumor mill had pronounced Hermione and Ronald Weasley a couple, but the two were being very careful about their public behavior and appearances, and Harry was even more careful about where he was seen and why. The adoration for these three students knew no bounds, but neither did the scandal digging or rumor mongering in the media.

Ultimately, McGonagall agreed to accept Hermione for N. E. W. T. level tutoring and practical training three nights a week, with additional four-hour sessions on Saturdays. Then, to Hermione’s delight, she made an additional proposal that was one better: if Hermione found that others in her year would prefer to complete their schooling and their N. E. W. T. S. in this way, then McGonagall would take them as a special class and bring the other Hogwarts professors on board.

Hermione cornered her two boys one night at Grimmauld Place to ask them about the plan. She had expected teasing and a firm refusal to endure more schooling, but after she had finished speaking, the only initial response she received was a thoughtful silence. She was even more surprised when Harry said slowly,

“It’s brilliant, Hermione.”

“You mean that you would consider it?” Hermione said hopefully, looking from Harry to Ron.

“Yeah,” answered Ron, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, we would.”

And just as she had in the Room of Requirement, Hermione had flown at him and kissed him soundly. When Harry had tactfully waited a few moments and then cleared his throat to get their attention, they had broken apart with flushed faces. They quickly regained their composure, however, when Harry began speaking.

“We’ll do more than consider it, Hermione,” he said earnestly. “The Horcrux hunt proved to me that we really should have listened when you told us to study more – and the D. A. was really a practical way of trying to apply our knowledge, as well as protect ourselves. We should send the word out to everyone in our year, but I want to talk to the D. A. members personally. We can divide them up, and each of us can canvass a few members.”

“All of the student war veterans, in one class,” Ron summed up, nodding sagely.

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed. “Not all of them will come, of course, but some will.”

“There’s going to be considerable overlap between the Hogwarts class and the Auror Academy,” Ron said contemplatively. “Luna, Neville, the Patils –”

“Draco,” Hermione supplied.

This caused both Harry and Ron to stare at her. “ _Draco_?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Yes, Draco,” Hermione answered, a touch impatiently. “Merlin knows he’s been through enough; he wants to remake his life and make up for some of what his father did. I think it’s very noble of him.”

“He didn’t tell you that himself though, did he?” Ron said pointedly. “Still won’t condescend to speak to a Muggleborn, I’m sure.”

Hermione reddened, but she held her ground. “No, he didn’t. As a matter of fact, he told Daphne Greengrass, who told me. According to her, Ronald, he’s actually quite ashamed of how he’s treated me and doesn’t know how to talk to me about it. I’ll never agree with the choices he’s already made, but he deserves another chance.”

What Hermione said wasn’t strictly true; Draco had _also_ talked to Daphne, but Hermione wasn’t about to tell Ron or Harry that it had been Ginny who talked to Draco first and who had subsequently told Hermione a good bit about what the blond Slytherin was thinking and feeling. Harry and Ginny were together again, but things were difficult for them. The long string of funerals and memorials had taken its toll on them both, and Harry was far from the person he had been at the end of sixth year. Ron would still cheerfully take Draco’s head off for all of the mistakes he had made. Neither of the boys needed any more ammunition against their former school rival and enemy.

The “Ronald” that had left Hermione’s mouth was enough to tell Ron to back off; he didn’t want to start a fight about Malfoy when things had been so pleasant tonight.  Harry, meanwhile, met Hermione’s eyes across the table, and Hermione could see the compassion there.

“All right, Draco,” Harry nodded. “What about Cho and Lavender?”

“Not Cho,” Ron confirmed. “She’s going to play Quidditch for Holyhead. I think Lavender might want to be with us, though; she wants to go in for Healer training at St. Mungo’s, and she’ll need her N. E. W. T. S.”

“Dean and Seamus are both in the Auror class,” Hermione added.

Harry drummed his fingers on the tabletop, considering, and for a fleeting moment Hermione saw how his father must have looked, planning a scheme with the rest of the Marauders.

“What if we offered to let anyone who is participating both in the Auror Academy and the Hogwarts class stay here?” he suggested, gesturing toward the expansive space of Grimmauld Place that surrounded them.

“Here?” Hermione squeaked in surprise.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Ron said feelingly. “That could be a lot of people. This house is huge, but we don’t want to be overrun.”

“I don’t think they’ll all accept, but we do have the room,” Harry explained. “The three of us have all claimed our space already, and you know it’s much easier to move between the Ministry and Hogwarts from here. We can go by Apparition or Floo with no problems.”

“I don’t know if we should include that many people in the Fidelius charm, Harry,” Hermione said anxiously. “We’ve kept the numbers small on purpose; we don’t want to compromise the security now that Bill redid all the wards.”

“With a little help from you,” Harry reminded her with a smile.

“That’s really beside the point,” Hermione murmured, blushing a bit. Bill had been more than impressed with the modifications she had suggested for the wards, and had asked if she would consider going into curse-breaking as an Auror specialty. While Hermione loved to learn anything and everything, she didn’t think curse-breaking would be her focus and told Bill so; she had seen more than enough cursed objects in the hunt for Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Although she would certainly learn enough of the basics to be able to spot cursed objects, Hermione was positive she didn’t want to spend her life detecting, handling, or un-cursing things and individuals.

Ron frowned at the little interchange between his friends, but neither of them noticed as Harry picked up the thread of the conversation again.

“Who then? Who do we trust?” he asked, looking over at Ron.

“Neville, absolutely,” Ron replied promptly, shoving his unease to the back of his mind. “He kept the D. A. running without us, led the insurrection against the Carrows, and killed Nagini. He can be in our corner anytime, and here at Grimmauld Place, too.”

“He’s always been loyal to you, Harry,” Hermione noted gently.

“More than I deserved, I think,” Harry replied with a smile. “He’s a good friend.”

“I think we should ask Luna as well,” Ron put in unexpectedly. “She’s helped us all the way through and never asked for anything in return except our friendship.”

Hermione reached over and squeezed Ron’s hand. “You’re absolutely right, Ron,” she said approvingly. “Luna’s been wonderful, and she needs us.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed before staring at his friends meditatively. “You aren’t going to like this, but –”

“Don’t say it,” Ron groaned.

“– we should ask Draco,” Harry said firmly.

“Do you really trust him, Harry?” Hermione questioned, a troubled look on her pretty face.

“No,” Harry admitted frankly. “But Dumbledore was right about him; Draco isn’t a killer, and he did try to help us at Malfoy Manor. He was shocked by what happened to Crabbe. Lucius is in jail for the rest of his life, and Draco has no one left besides Narcissa and Andromeda. I know what it’s like to have a family that either ignores your existence or uses you. I don’t think Narcissa or Andromeda will ever do that, but Draco’s had a tough time of it in that family, just as Sirius did. Maybe he needs someone to offer him some trust before he can prove whether he’s worthy of it,” Harry finished.

Ron and Hermione were silent. Harry so seldom spoke of his life at the Dursleys’ that simply alluding to his relatives in passing was enough to quench their arguments. After holding a brief conversation with their eyes, Ron nodded, and Hermione turned to Harry.

“All right,” she said, speaking for both of them. “Even though I admire what he’s striving for, it’s hard to stomach the idea of him living here, but we should give him a chance and we will. However, the first one to catch him doing anything shady gets to personally deliver him to the Ministry, agreed? I’m much more willing to trust him now than I used to be, but we’ve been betrayed before.”

“Agreed,” Harry acquiesced. “Thank you both. So, we spread the word to the former D. A. members and our classmates about the alternative classes at Hogwarts, and we invite Neville, Luna, and Draco to take up temporary residence here, should they so choose. I think Neville will say yes. Not only is it convenient in all the obvious ways, but he’ll be able to visit his parents much more often. Can you and Luna handle sharing space with four boys, Hermione, if it comes to that?” he teased.

“I would pose the question the other way around,” Hermione replied wickedly, arching an eyebrow. “Can you four boys handle sharing the space with two women?”

“Let’s hope so,” Harry chuckled.

“Harry,” Hermione began hesitantly, “will Kreacher and Winky be able to care for so many people?”

Harry smiled. He had taken Winky in after the Battle of Hogwarts to be an extra help to Kreacher, and he had gotten around the reluctance of the house elves to be paid by giving them a monthly allotment for uniforms and any other expenses. They weren’t required to spend it, but it was there for anything they might need. It wasn’t the same kind of freedom Dobby had found, but it was a start. Since Kreacher flatly refused to leave Grimmauld Place or Harry, and Winky was fast becoming attached to Harry as well, he rather thought it was the best he could hope for at the moment.

“I think they’ll be fine, Hermione, but I’ll talk to them about it before we make all of this final,” Harry promised. “I don’t want them to feel overwhelmed. They’ve done an incredible job making this place livable and beautiful again, but if they think they will need more help to look after six people, I will make sure they have it.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione beamed. Both Harry and Ron had come around remarkably to her ideas about house elves after the disastrous revelations about Kreacher and the part that he had played in the Department of Mysteries fiasco and Sirius’s death. Both of them tried to be particularly nice to Kreacher and Winky, and they publicly supported all of Hermione’s efforts to better conditions and promote freedom for the house elves.

As it turned out, all three of their potential housemates did accept the offer when the entire plan was laid before them. Neville was gratified and happy for all of the reasons Harry had foreseen: he wanted to train as an Auror, finish his N. E. W. T. S., and receive extra instruction from Professor Sprout, not to mention that being at Grimmauld Place meant he could visit his parents with greater frequency.

Luna, as Ron and Hermione had anticipated, was delighted by the idea of living with the only friends she had ever had. She made the proviso that she would always visit her father on Sundays, and Hermione made a mental note to tell Kreacher and Winky so that they could plan more accurately for Sunday dinner. Although Xenophilius was busier than he had ever been, given the tremendous new success of the _Quibbler_ , Luna did not want to leave him all alone when they were so used to depending on each other. 

Draco’s reaction was perhaps the most gratifying, in some redemptive way. Harry had gone to see Draco himself, feeling a need to bury the hatchet and make amends for all of the animosity between them, particularly their disastrous duel in sixth year. Draco had proved quiet but surprisingly receptive to Harry’s offer, and he had moved in before the others, slowly coming out of his shell in the succeeding weeks. He was exceedingly careful and almost overly polite around Hermione, but she had gotten him to smile once or twice, and Harry and Ron made an effort to treat him with a comfortable familiarity.

Their year at the Auror Academy had been filled to the brim, and what little time they had left was taken up with N. E. W. T. studying and training. Hermione, as always, excelled in just about everything, but she found that she was particularly skilled in potions, charms, transfiguration, and healing. Ron discovered a surprising aptitude for languages – his skills as a natural mimic seemed to aid him in aurally comprehending the vocabulary of Parseltongue, Mermish, Elvish, and Goblin, among others. Even before the end of their training he was being called in on cases where translation might be necessary. Not surprisingly, no one could touch Harry in magical defense and dueling – with Voldemort gone, he was able to delve into his studies with very little distraction, and he did so with a zeal and determination that would have made Mad-Eye proud. 

“Hermione!” a cheerful voice exclaimed. Hermione blinked, breaking out of her reverie to find Luna standing in front of her.

“Luna!” she said happily, drawing the younger girl into a hug. “How are you? You look beautiful!”

The petite blonde was wearing a midnight blue set of dress robes that brought out the blue and silver in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “You look quite nice yourself, Hermione. Are you here with anyone?”

Hermione shook her head, her eyes warm and happy. “No. Everyone I love is here tonight, and it’s a night for celebration. I didn’t feel like sharing it.”

Luna reached out and squeezed her hand approvingly. “That’s a beautiful sentiment – particularly as I’m here with Seamus and I wish I wasn’t.”

Hermione laughed. “Doesn’t Seamus make for a fun date? I would think he would.”

“Oh, he does,” Luna assured her. “Irish lads make wonderful dates, you know, and we’re just here as friends. We’ll have a good time. You’re right, though. It’s a night for being with those we love.”

The two girls looked at each other for a moment, understanding on their faces. “We won,” Hermione said simply, quietly. “Kingsley is the new Minister, we have Centaurs, Elves, half-Giants, and Wizards on the Wizengamot, and for the first time in thirty years our entire world can live without fear of the Dark Lord. We won.”

Luna smiled her whimsical smile, but there was something much more solemn and sorrowful in her eyes. “We did.”

With one piercing moment of clarity, Hermione suddenly realized that if Luna could have anyone in the world with her tonight, it would be her mother, whom she had lost so many years ago. Luna had fought with them to make the wizarding world safe again, but she had done it in the name of her mother, who had died far too young and left behind a bereft husband and a daughter who had managed to survive on faith and paternal love. Hermione put an arm around Luna’s shoulders in a comforting gesture, and the two of them stood watching the crowd.

“Oh, look, there’s Ron,” Luna said eventually. Through an opening in the swirling crowd, Hermione saw her redheaded friend laughing with Susan Bones. “We should go say hello.”

“We should,” Hermione agreed with a smile. She had enjoyed her quiet, reflective moments, but socializing was the order of the night, and she meant to have her fair share of it.

The two girls made their way over to Ron and as soon as he saw them, his face broke into an even wider grin.

“Hermione!” he said, sweeping her up into a hug. Hermione was literally lifted off her feet, and she laughed happily, kissing Ron on the cheek.

“Nice to see you too, Ron,” she answered teasingly as he set her back down.

Ron pouted in mock indignation. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, Hermione. Harry and I have been buried under this case; we’ve been sleeping, eating, and breathing it, and now when I finally get to see you again you’re _mocking_ me. It’s beyond cruel.”

Luna laughed at his antics and Ron grinned at her. “Hello Luna,” he said.

“Hello Ron,” she responded, her eyes sparkling. “How does it feel to be done with your first major case?”

“It feels bloody wonderful, as a matter of fact. I want to sleep for a week when tonight is over, but it was worth every minute,” Ron declared, firm conviction momentarily replacing the playfulness in his eyes.

“You should feel elated,” Luna responded softly. “You did everyone an incredible service.”

Hermione reached up and squeezed Ron’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Ron. Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you,” Ron said soberly. “Those two sadists deserved the hardest sentence we could get them. I’m just glad to have been a part of it.”

“Speaking of which . . .” Hermione said, pausing momentarily to look around “. . . where is Harry?”

“He should be here,” Ron said, frowning slightly. “I know he hates events like this, but he promised he would come and see everyone.”

“I did,” said a disembodied, amused voice behind Hermione. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to regret it.”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, and she turned to see her best friend’s laughing face appear in midair as he quickly shed his invisibility cloak. Without a second thought, Hermione threw her arms around him, falling cloak and all. Harry hugged her back tightly; he had long since grown used to her embraces and welcomed them, Hermione knew.

“Why on earth did you sneak up on us like that?” Ron asked. “You _are_ invited, Harry; no one is going to be throwing hexes at us tonight – at least, I hope not.”

“Well, for one, it got me in here unnoticed,” Harry said, his irritation at the constant attention of the press and the public trickling into his voice. “For another, I thought it would be fun,” he said, winking at Luna, who gave a soft chuckle.

Harry quickly shrank his cloak and stowed it in the interior pocket of his dress robes. “This way, I’m simply with my dearest friends, in the middle of the room, and no one saw me come in, and fewer people will want to interrupt us,” he said in satisfaction.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Luna said. “You really should be here tonight, you know. Kingsley wouldn’t have had the chance to be Minister at all if it weren’t for you.”

The Harry of five years ago would have blushed to his hair, Hermione thought, and she would much rather have seen that than the way Harry’s eyes darkened and his face became pale. It made her heart ache; he was still so haunted by everything that had happened. Before she could say anything, however, Luna stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry’s arm.

“It was meant with love, Harry,” she said gently. “You can’t let these things shadow you forever. Learn from them, but don’t let them prevent you from living.”

Harry nodded in appreciation, his face solemn, and just then the orchestra began to play merrily. Luna’s seriousness fell away as she turned back to Ron.

“They’re beginning the dancing!” she said gaily. “Would you care to dance, Ron?”

“Lead the way,” Ron said cheerfully, taking the hand that she held out and following her to the dance floor.

As Harry and Hermione watched them go, Hermione questioned her immediate instinct to pull Harry into a corner and make him talk. She knew he desperately needed to confide in someone (he always did bottle up too many emotions), but she didn’t want to force him into it. Tonight was about the future, and perhaps helping him to focus on that would be the best tactic.

When she looked over at Harry, however, he was gazing at her with a strange look in his eyes. He looked contemplative, apologetic, and something else Hermione wasn’t able to identify. It was almost . . . guarded. She was usually quite good at following his thoughts, even when they were silent, and it worried her that she couldn’t make sense of his expression.

“What is it, Harry?” she asked with a quizzical smile.

“I never asked you to dance,” he said slowly.

Hermione’s brow creased as she glanced around at the couples gathering. “They’ve only just started, Harry. And I know you’re not terribly fond of dancing; you don’t have to ask me.”

Harry shook his head, his face rueful. “No, I mean I never asked you to dance at the Yule Ball. I should have asked you, Hermione. I’m sorry.”

Hermione stared at him in surprise, and to her chagrin she felt her throat tighten with emotion. It was such a small thing – but it hadn’t been small to her then. It had hurt her fourteen-year-old-self profoundly that neither of her best friends had asked her to the ball nor asked her to dance with them. Harry had remembered.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said finally, her voice shaking just a little. He was looking at her a bit shyly now, waiting for her response. She managed a smile for him, because the last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty. “You shouldn’t feel badly about it. You were fourteen, and you had rather a lot going on, after all,” she said, lifting her eyebrow in a way that acknowledged the ironic understatement. “It’s wonderful of you to even remember. I haven’t thought about it in ages, but it made me very sad at the time.”

“I know,” Harry nodded, and the indecipherable look was back. Hermione was beginning to be frustrated by it. What did it mean?

“Can I make it up to you now? Would you like to dance?” Harry asked with a smile, and all Hermione’s worry fled as her face lit up.

“Really?” she said, and Harry laughed.

“Yes, really,” he answered. “Come on.”

He brought her to the dance floor and moved with ease into the crowd of couples, leading the dance with almost no hesitation.

“You’ve gotten much better at this than you used to be,” Hermione observed, her lips twitching with the memory of a younger Harry dancing with Parvati Patil. “Learned from experience?”

Harry tried to be annoyed with her for the teasing but failed miserably, the amusement plain on his features. “Some. Ginny taught me a good deal, too. She’s an excellent dancer; apparently she inherited the skill from Arthur.”

Hermione’s brows shot up at that information; she loved Mr. Weasley, but she never would have thought him a dancer.

“It surprised me, too,” Harry said, answering her look. “Mr. Weasley has hidden talents.”

Hermione nodded, but concern had flooded her mind again when Harry mentioned Ginny. Ginny and Harry had only broken up a few weeks before, and Harry had said almost nothing of it since. His voice was too careful and measured for comfort.

Hermione had been almost afraid to question or console him. He had been very withdrawn about what had happened, and seemed to simply want everyone to leave the subject alone. Her reluctance to comfort him had been deeply unsettling to her. She had never been afraid to try and ease his pain before, not during the worst of his anger and depression in their fifth and sixth years at school, not even in the midst of his absolute despair over Dumbledore during their Horcrux hunt. She had always tried. She had soothed her own troubled thoughts with the idea that he would come to her when he wanted to talk about it.

What she knew of the breakup had come from Ron. According to him, Ginny had said that they simply weren’t happy together any longer. Their year apart had changed them both, and while they cared for each other a great deal, there were too many things they hadn’t shared, too many terrible experiences that were vastly different in scope and setting, for all that they stemmed from the same cause.

Hermione mentally shook herself; she had always been there for him, and there was no reason for this to be any different.

The elegant string music changed then, slowing, and without thought they both shifted position, Hermione placing her arms around Harry’s neck while he settled his arms around her waist.

“Are you all right?” she asked Harry quietly, looking up at him. To her relief, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand her or evade her question.

“I will be,” he said, his eyes suddenly tired. “It was – I was thankful, actually, when Ginny finally made us sit down and talk about it. I didn’t want to hurt her, Hermione – I never wanted that – but there was so much I couldn’t even begin to explain to her. She had been so fierce, so brave, against the Carrows, and she and Neville basically kept everyone as safe as possible between the two of them. It was so hard for her to tell me about some of the things that she went through, but she did _tell_ me, and it seemed to help her. I could soothe her, but I couldn’t return her confidences. I felt as though it wasn’t right to burden her with any more sadness, even if she didn’t see it as a burden.”

Harry took a deep breath, and Hermione moved a little closer, trying to reassure him with touch. “I’m sure she didn’t,” she murmured.

“How do you even begin to explain, Hermione?” Harry asked, his face tight and troubled. “I don’t _have_ to explain to you or Ron; you were both always there. How do you tell someone you love that you were in mortal danger every day for a year, that you were hunted and tortured and ultimately had to kill and be killed? That the most ruthless wizard ever known had a link to your mind because he had unwittingly placed a part of himself inside you? It sounds insane – and _horrifying_ – even to say it out loud.”

His voice was shaking as he finished, and Hermione wrapped her arms around him, hugging him for all she was worth.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, her face against his shoulder. “I didn’t explain to my parents – at least, not most of it. Once I restored their memories, of course, they wanted to know everything, but I gave them only the barest outline. That was terrible enough for them to hear. I explained who Voldemort was, what he was trying to accomplish, that most of the attacks and bizarre occurrences in London in our sixth year were actually the result of magic, that Hogwarts had been co-opted by Death Eaters and the three of us were on the run and in hiding all year. I told them that we were at the Battle of Hogwarts, that you were the one to defeat Voldemort. They cried. They could hardly comprehend everything that had happened, and I think they were both deeply moved and absolutely shocked that I had gone to such lengths to keep them safe.”

Now Hermione had to pause to steady her voice, and she felt Harry’s arms tighten in their turn.

“They’re happy to have me back, and I’m so glad they’re alive and there to love me, but it’s not the same,” she whispered.

“No, it isn’t,” Harry acknowledged, his voice low in her ear.

They danced in silence for several minutes, and Hermione struggled to contain the ache that had risen in her heart. While she and her parents still loved each other dearly, and while their relationship was much less fraught than it had been immediately following the war, there were still difficult days and many difficult moments, when they knew that she was hiding things from them and they were too afraid to ask about her secrets. Knowing that their daughter was quite capable of altering their entire existence had profoundly changed their perspective about her magic. While they were now free to meet her friends and mingle with the magical world as much as they cared to, they only took small steps into Hermione’s life and she understood that the healing process would be long.

And Harry. Her best friend, who had given everything for the world that had been his only home, was brokenhearted because he couldn’t bring himself to speak about all of the horrors that he had experienced. He _did_ relive it, and far too often – Hermione knew that many of their experiences haunted his dreams, though that was yet another piece of knowledge that was left unspoken between them – but actually verbalizing it was something else entirely. It was still too raw. It might always be. In this, she and Ron might be the only two people who could help him heal. As Harry had said, he didn’t have to tell them anything; they had been through all of it with him.

Held close in Harry’s arms, Hermione fought the urge to cry. If anyone deserved happiness after all of this, it was Harry. She wanted that for him, more than anything in the world. She wanted him to have the home and family he had always longed for, wanted him to have an amazing career as an Auror, wanted him to have a beautiful existence now that Voldemort was gone. He deserved every joy life had to offer. If she could personally give him happiness for the rest of his life, she would do so without a moment’s hesitation.

The realization broke over her like a forceful wave, and Hermione’s entire body stiffened in shock.

_I love him. I’m in love with Harry. Dear Merlin, what am I going to do?_

She loved him. She would do anything to make him happy, to keep him safe; she would gladly stay with him through every triumph and failure. She had spent most of her waking life in the last nine years trying to help and protect him, and how she hadn’t seen what that _meant_ was entirely beyond her. She had never left his side; she had been frantic with worry and fear every time he was in danger, and yet she had never realized that she was in love with him, so deeply that it seemed as natural as breathing.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, stopping their dance abruptly as his brow furrowed in concern. Hermione panicked momentarily; he had clearly noticed the change in her body language, and she didn’t have any sort of ready answer for his question.

“I’m . . . fine, Harry,” she tried, giving him a wan smile. She met his eyes, those green eyes that were so familiar and suddenly so _dear_ , and had to use every ounce of willpower she possessed to contain the yearning that was overwhelming her.

“You’re not fine, Hermione, you’re white as a sheet. Here, come over here and sit down,” Harry said, taking command of the situation. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her over to a long, broad window seat in one corner of the room. Hermione sat carefully, and Harry knelt in front of her, still keeping his arm around her.

“Breathe, Hermione,” he said encouragingly. “Slow, deep breaths.”

Hermione obligingly drew in a long breath of air and felt some semblance of calm come back to her. She inhaled again, and Harry nodded approvingly as a little color came back to her cheeks.

“That’s better. I’m going to go find you some water,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’ll be right back, ‘Mione.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione answered. “I’m sorry . . .”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t ever apologize,” he said quietly, and disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione put her face into her hands. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t possibly be in love with Harry, not now, not after everything they had all been through. They had just finished the Academy; they were just starting to get their lives together again. Harry had just broken up with Ginny, the girl who had been his first love, the girl who had kept him going during the worst year of their lives. Asking him for more than friendship now would be wrong in so many ways.

Hermione wasn’t even sure she _could_ ask him for more, no matter how much she wished to. Gryffindor she might be, but the thought of losing Harry, of having him walk out of her life because he couldn’t love her, was enough to send cold fear pouring through her body. The very possibility of having to go through each day without the person who was dearest to her in the world was terrifying.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, Hermione did her best to think coherently. Harry was going through a difficult period after splitting up with Ginny, he and Ron were completely exhausted from the Carrow case, and there was only more work on the horizon, since a good number of Death Eaters were still at large and Kingsley had plans for the Aurors that were much more extensive than simply rounding up the remnants of Voldemort’s army. She could help, as she always had, as she always would. The three of them would work together on catching the Death Eaters. She could keep Harry apprised of the Umbridge case – seeing Umbridge brought to justice was one thing that was sure to make Harry more cheerful. She could make Harry smile and laugh, she could arrange dinners for them as a trio, she could arrange lunch meetings with Harry, she could have Ron lunch with him when she wasn’t available. Between the two of them, they would make sure that Harry was all right. She was his best friend still, and it was a role that she wore comfortably and well. In that capacity, she could ensure that Harry knew he was loved. Being his best friend was enough, and perhaps that was all she was ever meant to be.

She spotted Harry making his way back through the crowd, and she tried her utmost to clear her face of any lingering emotions and simply look calm.

“Here you are,” Harry said, handing Hermione a sparkling crystal goblet full of ice water. He surveyed her anxiously, but apparently found nothing terribly amiss. Hermione took a long sip and closed her eyes; the water seemed to clear away the last vestiges of her confusion and uncertainty, leaving her sure of what she had to do.

“That’s wonderful,” she said, looking up at Harry from where she sat and smiling at him. “I feel better now. Thank you for looking after me.”

“What else are friends for?” Harry asked, returning the smile.

Hermione nodded, her eyes suddenly serious. “That’s exactly what friends are for.”

Harry gave her a questioning look, but Hermione only shook her head a fraction, so he let it go. “Do you feel up to finishing our dance?” he asked instead, holding out a hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hermione quipped, standing and placing her hand in his. “It might take another nine years for it to happen again.”

Harry laughed as he led her back to the dance floor. Hermione’s face brightened, and soon the pair of them were back to enjoying the music and each other.

* * *

 

From where she was dancing in Ron’s arms, Luna watched Harry and Hermione with a knowing gaze. The shimmering aura surrounding them and filling the space between them had been shifting all night, changing with their moods and interactions. Silvery-white when the two of them had begun dancing, it had slowly changed to an almost blinding gold, then deepened nearly to blue when they left the dance floor. Now it was back to its normal silvery hue, but Luna had seen what could be and what _was_ , underneath the everyday friendship they shared.

Although Luna knew that Ron didn’t have her powers of Sight, he had apparently been thinking along the same lines as he watched his two closest friends. “Do you think they’ll ever realize what they are to each other?” he asked her quietly.

Luna smiled, looking up at him. “Perhaps not easily. You know them, Ron; it’s going to be difficult for them to change their relationship when they both feel so safe in the one they have already – but there’s always hope.”

“There always is,” Ron agreed, unobtrusively placing a kiss in her hair. “You taught me that.”

Luna nestled closer to him with a happy sigh.

 


End file.
